


In Like Flynn

by Marks



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-20
Updated: 2009-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. Ryan's friends from Vegas come to visit and meet his hot roommate. Wacky hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Like Flynn

**Author's Note:**

> I co-ran this end-of-the-year fic exchange, and kind of failed at all of my writing obligations. Oops. I try not to leave people hanging forever, though, just for a very very very long time. :D This fic is for welltimedsmiles, who I'm sure isn't expecting it, but I hope she likes it all the same. Thank you to stealstheashes, supergrover24, and fortysixthhour for looking this over for me. 7111 words.

Ryan already knew that Jon was hot. He had eyes, after all, and he only needed glasses when he drove. He also wasn't stupid. So it wasn't like when Brendon leaned in and whispered (definitely loud enough for Jon to hear), "Ryan, your roommate is so fucking _hot_ ," a series of synapses fired in Ryan's brain that ended with him getting a big, fat crush on Jon Walker. He'd already been there long before his friends came for a visit.

But just because someone wanted something didn't mean he got it and Ryan knew that, too.

+

"We're coming to see you!" Brendon blurted out and, judging by Spencer's annoyed sigh from his end of their threeway call, that was supposed to have been a surprise.

"Wait, what?" Ryan said, just as Spencer warned, " _Brendon_."

As it turned out, Spencer and Brendon had been planning for weeks, ever since Ryan told them that he didn't think he'd be able to make it home for spring break. He'd been really sad about it, too, because as much as he loved Chicago he'd grown up in the desert, so the winters sucked twice as much for him as the average person. Ryan had been looking forward to the hot weather and his friends, but his mentor, his idol, his whole reason for moving east in the first place, Pete Wentz, had asked him to help grade his midterms. And as much as no one wanted to read a stack of freshman compositions, Ryan saw the opportunity for what it was. It would have been stupid to turn him down.

"Sorry, Spence," Brendon chirped brightly. His apology lacked sincerity. "Our parents are even paying because we told them it was for a college tour."

"You're already in college," Ryan reminded them. Because while Ryan wasn't stupid, his best friends were actually smart and hadn't decided to go to school two-thousand miles away because a published writer with an assistant professorship once replied to their LiveJournals telling them that their poetry was 'in liek flynn.' Ryan still wasn't exactly sure what that meant. Anyway, because they were smarter than Ryan, Brendon and Spencer stayed in Las Vegas for school, saving their money and not doing popsicle impressions every winter.

"Not your college," Spencer said in the tone he often used when proving to Ryan how much smarter he was.

Brendon added, "We're thinking of transferring."

"You are not," Ryan said.

"No," Spencer agreed, "but we are staying for a week."

"Surprise!" Brendon said happily. "Hope there's room on the floor."

+

There was room on the floor -- or the couch or half a bed, if they preferred -- and Jon, Ryan's roommate, had the audacity to not only be good-looking but also totally easygoing and friendly, which meant he had no problem with two of Ryan's hot-weather friends (Jon's words, not Ryan's) crashing at their place for a week.

"No problem," Jon told him, padding around their kitchen barefoot because Ryan had a thing for Jon's feet and Jon definitely tortured him on purpose. "We can have a party! This way everyone can check out your buddies and see if they're really as awesome as you say they are."

Ryan sagged against the counter, relieved, even though he had no reason to be worried. Jon sometimes made Ryan tense for no reason at all. Then Jon flashed him a bright grin and stepped into Ryan's personal space to grab the sugar off the counter, freaking Ryan out again.

"And," Jon said knowingly, "we can invite _Pete_."

+

Okay, so the thing was Ryan _maybe_ had given Jon the impression that he _maybe_ had a crush on Pete Wentz. And while in an abstract sense this might have been true, because Ryan really did dig Pete's writing and Pete was his mentor and professor and all that, Pete was also missing some major filters that killed any potential crushes Ryan might have been harboring when he first moved away for college. Filters such as:

"Hey, I've known Jon for a long time, so I've seen him naked," and "Ryan Ross, if you ever wanted to fuck Jon on my desk, you know, just bend him over it and fuck the shit out of him, I would be okay with that. Just make sure to turn the pictures of Patrick and Hemmy around; they're very delicate." Patrick and Hemmy were Pete's best friend and dog respectively.

Ryan scrubbed at his face with his hands. He really needed to stop going to Pete's office hours.

"You can leave me and Ash where we are, though," Pete continued. "We like to watch."

"That's great, Pete," Ryan said, hastily standing up to make his exit. He remembered to invite Pete and his girlfriend Ashlee to their party before he went, though. Jon knew Ashlee and, like everyone else who knew her, loved the hell out of her, so Ryan was never completely sure why he was always encouraging Ryan's so-called crush on Pete. Maybe he secretly wanted Ashlee for himself. Maybe he thought Pete and Ashlee wanted a kinky threesome with Ryan.

"You wouldn't even have to clean the spunk up after!" Pete called as Ryan slammed the door behind him.

Okay, maybe Jon was onto something with the threesome thing but Ryan didn't really want to know for sure.

+

On the day that Brendon and Spencer were due in, Ryan put on his driving glasses and his special embroidered leather driving gloves and borrowed Jon's beat-up Honda Accord to pick them up at their terminal. He gave himself a ton of time so he could drive at a leisurely pace (Ryan got nervous going over 40 miles-per-hour -- cars were big and Chicago drivers were scary), only got lost two times, didn't make any patrolling security officials suspicious, and remembered to put on the parking brake before he got out of the car to help his friends with their luggage and to accept two very manly hugs (okay, not so manly; Brendon licked his cheek and Ryan accidentally patted Spencer's ass before they broke apart).

On the drive back, Spencer sat next to him and put his feet up on the dashboard and Brendon scooted up from the backseat, his arms looped around the driver's and passenger's seats. Ryan was so happy to see them both he almost forgot that it was nearly rush hour, that he had a painful unrequited crush on his roommate, and that his mentor was a pervert who wanted Ryan to jizz all over his work desk.

"Ryan, Ryan," Brendon was saying, tapping Ryan's headrest along with the radio, "the stewardess --"

"Flight attendant," Ryan corrected absently.

Brendon blew a raspberry at the back of Ryan's head. "The _flight attendant_ gave me _three_ bags of complimentary pretzels," Brendon said, sounding more like he'd won the lottery than gotten some free snacks. Though snacks were pretty important.

"Seriously, that's in no way impressive and she gave them to you because you asked," Spencer said.

"She could have said no," Brendon pointed out. "Whatever, it's a great story. I'm going to tell my grandkids all about my glorious flight from Las Vegas to Chicago when I got more pretzels than Uncle Spencer."

Spencer laughed. "Wait, you want to procreate now?"

"Yes. _Right_ now." Brendon said, pulling up between Ryan and Spencer's seats to press a sloppy kiss to Spencer's temple. Spencer spluttered, but he was still laughing, which kind of killed any annoyance he might have been trying for.

"I missed you guys so much," Ryan said blissfully, putting on his turn signal. "Now sit back and put your seatbelt on, Brendon."

Ryan was so happy that he drove at the speed limit the whole way home.

+

But like all good things Ryan's happiness eventually had to end. Logically he knew this; he just hadn't expected it the minute he let Brendon and Spencer into his apartment and found Jon there, being hot, which he really couldn't help. And Brendon reacted, which he also really couldn't help.

"Ryan, your roommate is so fucking _hot_ ," Brendon whispered loudly.

Which brings us back to the place where we began.

Ryan froze and dropped Brendon's suitcase on Spencer's foot. Spencer let out a very manly grunt -- only, much like their hugs, there was nothing manly about it. It was more of a strangled yell, a hop, and a string of very creative curse words. Needless to say, Ryan felt very bad about this. He also felt like a tool, something that Ryan felt like more often than he'd like in front of Jon.

Jon rushed over as Ryan helped Spencer into the living room to sit on the La-Z-Boy recliner they'd bought together at the Goodwill a couple of weeks after Pete had told Ryan, "Hey, so I have a friend who needs someone to share his apartment, and if you're still looking to get out of residential housing I can suggest you. He's a photography major and he's totally hot!" The recliner reclined, which Jon liked, and it was plaid, which Ryan liked. Anyway, that was much closer to the time Ryan actually got a crush on Jon than when Brendon went around just blurting out what had been obvious to Ryan for months.

"We need to take this off," Jon told Spencer, grinning up as he slowly undid the laces on Spencer's wingtip and slid off Spencer's shoe and sock. "Feet need to breathe, especially when they're damaged." And Spencer, Ryan's oldest friend in the entire world, was beaming down at Jon. Normally Ryan would be happy that his friends took so easily to each other, only Spencer's smile was more like the opposite of a deadly weapon; one day scientists would learn to harness its power to bring peace and harmony to the entire world. Ryan really wasn't happy about having the full force of it directed at Jon before Jon even learned any of Spencer's irritating habits.

So not even an hour after Ryan was loving his best friends and so happy to see them, Ryan wanted to kill them both. He flounced over to their couch and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring as Jon carefully checked each of Spencer's toes.

"Don't worry, Ryan," Brendon stage-whispered as he flopped backwards onto the couch and attached himself to Ryan's side like a spider monkey, "I bet Jon will give you a footrub one day, too."

Ryan scowled.

+

Ryan got over it fifteen minutes later when Dr. Jon recommended the use of medicinal marijuana as a cure-all for Spencer's not-even-bruised foot and also the emotional trauma they all experienced by witnessing Ryan drop a suitcase on it.

Of course this level of adorability only made Ryan's epic crush on Jon grow a little more, and now with Brendon and Spencer both knowingly grinning at him over the bong, he had to admit he was totally, completely, unavoidably fucked -- only not, since that would have solved Ryan's problems.

Brendon continued to lack tact and volume regulation as he rolled into Ryan's lap and loudly whispered, "We know you have dibs on Jon. But don't think I'm not jealous." Brendon also continued to have really bad timing; Ryan had just hit the tingly part of his high where he got skin hungry. He couldn't even be mad at him because Brendon stroked Ryan's wrists while he told him this. Instead, he might have made agreeable little murmurs and stared at Jon with a dopey grin on his face instead.

Stupid friends.

+

Things got even stupider when the high wore off and they went to sleep. He managed to ignore it when Brendon cheerfully suggested that he and Spencer could share Ryan's room if Ryan bunked with Jon. Instead, he not-so-subtly made sure Jon was in his room before making up the couch and then pointing to Brendon and then it with a stern, "Stay," but he immediately regretted this arrangement when Spencer came into Ryan's room, one eyebrow raised.

It was his judging eyebrow. Ryan hated that eyebrow more than anything in the world.

"Were you ever planning to tell us you're in love?"

"I'm not," Ryan lied. It was just a little lie, so it hardly counted. He pulled down the sheets and threw his extra blanket onto the bed while Spencer changed into sweatpants and an old band t-shirt.

"You're lying," Spencer said, and Ryan swore because he'd known that Spencer would see right through him. It was kind of Spencer's thing. "You're lying and you're in _loooooove_ with Jon Walker and you want to marry him."

"You're exaggerating," Ryan said importantly, while not actually denying any of these accusations, "and you sound like Brendon."

"Take that back!" Spencer demanded.

That _was_ kind of a low blow, so Ryan agreed to take it back. He frowned and got into bed, waiting until Spencer settled down to turn off the lights. In the dark it was easier to ask, "Am I that obvious?"

"Kind of," Spencer said.

Ryan sighed.

"I think it's just because we know you so well. Jon kept asking me how often you talk about Pete Wentz."

"Oh God," Ryan groaned. He covered his head with a pillow. "He keeps trying to set me up with Pete because he thinks I like him. I do like Pete, but not that way. I mean, he's kind of my boss and I don't really want to fuck guys who graphically describe their bowel movements to me. Especially not straight guys."

Spencer laughed. "I take it Jon doesn't do that."

"No. But he's still straight. He broke up with his girlfriend of a million years right before we moved into this apartment."

"Ryan, you're dumb."

"I am not!"

"Okay, you're not," Spencer agreed, pulling the pillow off of Ryan's head. Ryan could just barely make out his features in the dark now. "Did Jon tell you he was straight?"

Ryan hesitated. "I may have inferred this from context clues."

"Right. You've had how many girlfriends?"

"Shut up," Ryan mumbled.

"Don't be blind," Spencer replied. Then he rolled over and didn't say anything else, so Ryan was still pretty mixed up. But he also didn't shift away when Ryan threw an arm over Spencer's chest and curled around him like they had when they were little and sharing Spencer's twin bed. Ryan drifted to sleep while trying to match their breathing.

+

"Do you want me to talk to him for you?" Brendon asked over breakfast the next morning. Ryan stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You know, Jon," Brendon added helpfully.

Ryan pressed his lips into a thin line. "I can talk to him myself. I've been talking to him for months now. We share an apartment, in case you missed that."

"Try _sharing a bed_ ," Brendon said, using his sing-song voice _and_ his eyebrow waggle.

"Who's sharing a bed?" Of course Jon chose exactly that moment to wander into the room, attractively stretching so the fabric of his gray t-shirt rode up, exposing a strip of skin. It was a really nice strip of skin. Ryan found himself dry-mouthed and unable to answer.

Brendon waggled his eyebrows some more. "No one that matters. Yet."

"That's too bad." Jon smiled at Ryan and Brendon in turns and Ryan tried not to melt into a puddle. "Ooh, you made _coffee_ ," Jon said and _delightedly clapped his hands together_ when he spotted the coffeepot sitting in the middle of the kitchen table. Needless to say, Ryan's not-melting plan failed immediately.

"We have to get stuff for the party," Ryan managed to choke out as Jon poured himself a cup, black, and took his first sip with a contented hum that bordered on orgasmic. "Today. For the party."

Jon took another sip and hummed some more. "Sure. Do you want to play tour guide for Brendon and Spencer while I get the chips and shit? You shouldn't have to worry about anything else while your friends are around."

"We can come with you!" Brendon blurted out. He was practically bouncing. "And you can come with us! You're a Chicago native, right? You probably know all about its seedy underbelly."

"Oh yeah," Jon agreed. "I'm a mob linchpin. Have been for years. Right, Ryan?"

Ryan was doing the melting thing again. "Yes," Ryan said eventually, "Jon will break your kneecaps as soon as look at you," and Jon laughed so hard he inhaled his coffee, which Ryan was pretty proud of until he had to pound on Jon's back so he'd stop coughing.

+

As it turned out, combining party planning with tourism turned out to be a lot of fun. Grocery shopping didn't really count as a chore when all they were buying was chips, dip, soda, beer, hard liquor, and -- at Brendon's request -- those little Totino pizza roll things because they were like "a party in my mouth!"

No one really commented on that. Some things were just too easy.

Jon was fun to shop with (he gamely pushed Brendon around the parking lot in a shopping cart while Spencer and Ryan timed their runs) and even more fun as a tour guide. They didn't hit any of the tourist traps except for Navy Pier because Jon was really enthusiastically fond of it, but they did get to eat at Jon's favorite pizza place and got a drink at Jon's favorite bar. Ryan knew both of those already, of course, but it was fun to watch him tell Brendon and Spencer what they should order and what they shouldn't touch without a hazmat suit. His eyes lit up whenever he'd explain anything, and he kept pulling out his digital camera and taking pictures of them whenever he thought no one was paying attention. Ryan was paying attention to Jon, though. He always did.

When they were on the L to head back to the apartment, Spencer leaned in and said, "Do something about it before someone else does." The only small concession there was Spencer actually knew how to whisper.

+

Ryan's method of doing something before someone else did mostly consisted of avoiding Jon as much as possible. This was especially difficult when they were trying to get around each other in their tiny kitchen while getting ready for Brendon and Spencer's welcome party. He could almost hear Spencer's voice telling him he was pathetic, though that could have actually been Spencer yelling at Brendon in the other room. Last Ryan checked, Brendon had been getting his ass handed to him in Guitar Hero.

Ryan sighed and weighed out his options, morosely shaking chips out of a bag into a bowl. He could just tell Jon how he felt or, better yet, show him. There weren't words to express how much Ryan wanted to maybe grab Jon by the shoulders and kiss him hard. That had definitely worked for him a couple of times in the past, but in the cases where that backfired he'd also had the option of crawling under a rock and never seeing those people again. It was different with Jon; not only would Ryan have to see him day after day and live with the knowledge that he'd made an ass out of himself, but he also really liked Jon even beyond _like_ liking him. He was Ryan's friend, his closest one in Chicago. He didn't know how to cope if he lost that. Maybe he could--

" _Earth to Ryan_."

"Huh?" Ryan jerked his head up, looking over his shoulder to find Jon watching him with a mix of annoyance and amusement.

"Nice of you to answer me," Jon said, leaning his weight onto one leg and crossing his arms over his chest. It was a good look for him. "I only called your name like six times. Were you in a chip-related coma?"

Ryan blinked. "Um. Yeah, well, you know me around sour cream and onion."

Jon laughed and walked up behind Ryan, peering over his shoulder at the chip bowl. "Chips and dip addiction is a serious problem affecting our nation's youth," he agreed. Ryan huffed out a laugh and willed himself not to turn his head to the right because that would bring him dangerously close to Jon's mouth. His chest hurt with how much he wanted to turn around and press himself as tightly to Jon as he could, but he settled for putting down the potato chips and squeezing the countertop like an anchor.

"Sorry," Ryan said quietly, still staring at his hands. "Did you need something?"

Jon shook his head. "Not really. I was just going to tell you that I'd been thinking about tonight and how awesome Brendon and Spencer are. I almost don't want to share them, you know?"

Ryan smiled despite himself. "They have that effect on people."

"Yeah," Jon continued. "I haven't really felt like that since you moved in here. Not as much as with you, but..."

Then a lot of stuff happened all at once: Ryan's eyes widened at Jon's words and his grip on the counter loosened before he could even think about it. He whirled around, only he was a fucking klutz in even the best circumstances, so of course his hand flew out and sent the bowl flying, scattering chips everywhere. Both Jon and Ryan dropped to the floor without thinking, though they weren't in time to save anything and they knocked their heads together, hard, as they went down. The bowl sadly rocked to a stop on the linoleum.

"Ow, fuck," Jon said decisively. Ryan agreed, gingerly rubbing his forehead.

"Sorry," Ryan said. He was apologizing a lot, which had to be really attractive.

Jon shrugged. "Shit happens, and we have more. Besides, have you ever been to a party here where people weren't more interested in drugs and booze?"

Ryan laughed and dropped his hand to his side. The laughter hurt his head but it felt good, too.

Jon's eyes widened.

"What?" Ryan asked, alarmed when Jon scooted across the floor, touching their knees together.

"That's one hell of a goose egg," Jon said. He lightly pressed his fingers against Ryan's forehead, and the sudden dizziness Ryan felt probably wasn't due to his bump. "Is my head okay?"

Ryan's eyes flicked up to Jon's hairline, and he nodded. "Fine. I guess your head's harder than mine."

"Filled with rocks," Jon agreed, grazing his hand down the side of Ryan's face. "Do you feel like you're going to pass out?"

"I feel fine," Ryan said. Fine other than the way his stomach was flipping over having all of Jon's attention on him.

"Then just a bump. Good thing we have so much ice; I think we can spare some for your head."

"Is that Dr. Jon's official diagnosis?"

Jon nodded, pulling himself to his feet and opening up the freezer. "I'll have to observe the patient, of course, make sure it's really just a bump and you're not about to turn into your own evil twin or something."

Ryan grinned. "You watched too much television as a kid," he said.

"Don't question the medical professional," Jon said sternly.

"Sorry, Doctor." That apology didn't seem as bad as the others.

+

Hitting his head against Jon's turned out to be pretty awesome. Jon made him lie down on the couch and told Brendon and Spencer they had to continue their rock battle quietly because the patient's needs were more important than their fighting. This earned a raised eyebrow from Spencer and a laughing fit from Brendon, but it also meant Ryan also couldn't waste any more snacks because Jon wouldn't let him help out anymore. Brendon offered to fill in with an exaggerated wink.

"Yeah, the beer is still warm. Could you fill up the coolers?" Jon asked without looking at Brendon, fussing over Ryan and repositioning the ice-filled plastic bag on his forehead.

Ryan supposed he shouldn't have been proud of the triumph that bloomed in his stomach at that, but he couldn't help it. Jon kept _smiling_ at him.

+

Once the guests started to arrive, Brendon stopped minding his substitute co-host gig. There was nothing Brendon liked more than mingling with a bunch of new people and, since he knew that he was there to charm Ryan's friends, he'd dialed it up to eleven. Ryan swore he could see Brendon vibrating from here.

Ryan had been relieved from couch rest by Dr. Jon after the swelling on his bump had gone down some, leaving him just enough time to get dressed and ready. The bump really didn't look bad at all when Ryan looked at himself in the mirror; he could feel it when he ran his fingers down from his hairline, but other than that, it was just a little red welt. Ryan had been ready to break into the makeup he didn't wear regularly anymore, but it wasn't necessary. That meant two things: one, Spencer wouldn't tease him for getting the eyeliner out again at the earliest opportunity and two, Jon's fussing over him wasn't strictly necessary at all. Ryan couldn't help smiling to himself while pulling the corner of a fedora down over his forehead.

And now the party was in full swing. About an hour after they'd told everyone to show up, everyone actually did, which was when Jon and Ryan really wanted everyone there all along. The guests were getting to that point where Ryan only recognized two out of every three people. That meant a good party, as long as he could stop strangers from having sex on his bed, especially since _he_ hadn't had sex in his bed in a long, long time. Unfortunately, his strangers-fucking-strangers odds hadn't been too great in the past, but he thought maybe tonight his luck would change.

"Ryan, introduce me to your friend," Brendon demanded, dragging a dazed-looking Siska over to Ryan's perch on the arm of the couch, where he was idly shaking ice of a glass filled with something juicy and rummy. Brendon, of course, was perfectly capable of introducing himself to anyone, but he could get oddly formal. Or, Ryan considered, maybe he just missed Ryan, since he hopped up next to Ryan and declared, "I missed you, wallflower."

"Brendon, this is Adam," Ryan said, gesturing grandly from one to the other, "but no one calls him that. Everyone calls him Siska or Sisky Biz, and he's just barely old enough to drink. Jon's friends kidnapped him from his crib."

"Yep," Siska agreed, bobbing his head. "I was raised by wolves."

Brendon grinned widely. "I like that in a person."

"What, being too young or raised in the wild?" Ryan asked.

"Yes," Brendon said decisively. He pointed across the room. "Hey, Ryan, Jon's looking at us."

Ryan's head snapped up. Jon was totally looking at them -- and smiling and beckoning them over, in fact. All at once, Brendon shook his head, pulled Siska in by his t-shirt, and elbowed Ryan off the arm of the couch. Ryan flailed briefly to save his drink, but didn't even stop to throw Brendon a cranky glance over his shoulder because Jon was smiling at him so wide. Ryan took the three long strides necessary to reach their front hall, and clinked his glass against Jon's beer bottle. Jon smiled wider.

"Look at what I found," Jon said, grinning and gesturing. Pete and Ashlee were standing right there, which Ryan had known, but he hadn't realized that would be the entire point of his visit. He should have known better; his luck wasn't that good.

"Ryan _Ross_!" Pete said enthusiastically, throwing his arms around Ryan's neck and pressing in tight. Ryan could feel Pete's stubble rubbing rough against his neck, and though he didn't usually mind hugs from Pete with Ashlee watching indulgently, he _did_ mind it when Jon was giving a little bow and saying, "Well, I'll just leave you to it then."

Like he was doing Ryan a _favor_.

"Fuck," Ryan exhaled as Pete let him go and Jon walked over to where Spencer and Gabe were lining up a row of empty bottles to do God-only-knew-what. He caught Spencer giving Jon a surprised glance just before Ashlee stole Ryan's hat and pulled his attention back to them.

"Hello to you, too," she said pointedly, adjusting the fedora on her head.

Ryan's shoulders sagged. "Sorry," he said, and he really did mean it, "that just didn't play out the way I'd expected it to."

Ashlee smiled brightly. "Love makes us do funny things!"

"When did I get so obvious?" Ryan sighed.

"Uh, at least since you were seventeen and posting half-naked pictures of yourself online?" Pete said, and Ryan scowled. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Ross, stop looking at me like that. It's what got me to read your poetry, isn't it?"

"So you keep reminding me every two days."

Pete grinned and patted Ryan's chest. "I'll keep doing that every day until one of us dies, and even then I wouldn't rule out haunting," he said. "Speaking of haunting you, have you attacked that stack of midterms I gave you?"

"Oh." Truthfully, with Brendon and Spencer's visit and the party and the whole Jon drama, Ryan hadn't even read one exam yet. It was too easy to forget Pete was his boss sometimes. "I haven't--"

Ashlee sighed. "Work stuff, Pete? Really? Leave him alone at his own party."

Ryan was suddenly really fucking grateful for Ashlee's existence.

"It's no fun if I'm not making his life miserable!" Pete protested. "No offense," he told Ryan.

Ryan sighed. "None taken."

"Maybe _I_ should make _your_ life miserable instead," Ashlee said.

Pete raised his eyebrows, and shifted closer to Ashlee. "Oh yeah? How do you think you're going to do that?" Ryan sighed again and took another drink. They had such a fucked up idea of foreplay.

"By keeping these from you!" Ashlee lifted her shirt and flashed both of them. Then she giggled and ran away, with Pete following quickly after. Ryan was still frozen with his drink pressed to his lips. Well, he reasoned, at least it wouldn't be strangers fucking in his room that night.

Ryan looked around for Jon again. He was going to tell him exactly was going on with Pete so he could stop with this ridiculousness. At least until he found him laughing at something their friend Greta was saying. She had her hair piled up on top of her head, making her even prettier than usual, and she kept touching Jon's arm. Anyone with half a brain would be crazy to turn her down. Ryan calmly drained the rest of his glass, put it down on a nearby bookshelf, and walked right out of their apartment. His feet took him down the stairs and out to the front stoop before he could even think about it, like he'd just gone out for a cigarette, not freaked out because of his own inaction and general failure with Jon. Ryan patted down his suit jacket and found nothing. He sighed.

Patrick, Pete's friend, was already outside with another guy, Travis, who really was having that reasonable cigarette break. They were both beatboxing, Travis more successfully than Patrick. Travis was about twelve feet taller than Patrick, so Patrick staring up with adoration could have been a funny distraction, only they both did a doubletake when they saw Ryan -- Patrick even got the first half of a hello out before taking in Ryan's face. The "hell..." was left hanging in the air.

Travis gave Ryan a sympathetic smile and dropped his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out against the brick. They were pushing past him to get inside again before Ryan could even bum anything off Travis.

Hell.

Ryan sighed and settled down on the steps. Since he was alone, he decided to indulge himself by full-on burying his face in his hands. It was completely possible that Ryan had jumped to some conclusions. Jon and Greta were friends and had been for a long time; just because Jon was talking to a pretty girl didn't mean anything. And even if it did, what right did Ryan have to go all infinite sadness over it? Spencer had been totally right about him having to make a move before it was too late, and Jon had pushed Ryan toward the person he _thought_ Ryan wanted because Ryan always had been too chicken to tell him the truth.

Ryan hunched in on himself and pulled his suit jacket a little tighter around him. To top everything else off, he was an idiot who thought that going outside in March without a real coat was a good idea. For fuck's sake, he was from _Nevada_. Who did he think he was fooling?

The door creaked open behind him, so quietly that if there'd been any other noise Ryan would have missed it. It was probably just someone else with a nicotine craving or maybe Spencer coming out to check up on him, but he twisted around and raised his head hopefully anyway. Jon was there, looking a little sheepish and scuffing his foot against the steps.

"Hi," he said, sitting down next to Ryan. He was wearing short sleeves _and_ flip-flops, and just that alone made Ryan feel better about himself. He didn't even feel that cold anymore.

"Hi," Ryan said back. His breath caught when Jon pressed their legs together.

"So it's possible I've been an idiot," Jon said all in one breath.

Ryan laughed, surprised. "You? I don't think so."

"No, I definitely think so." Jon shifted closer so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, too. "Spencer and Brendon said I was being one, and I trust them."

Ryan didn't think he should be getting his hopes up again so soon, but he couldn't help it. He couldn't help anything as far as Jon was concerned. "Why do they think you're an idiot?"

Jon shrugged. "Situational blindness?" he suggested. "I psych myself out of getting things I really want sometimes." Ryan's eyes widened and he turned his head to stare at Jon, finding Jon looking back. "Oh," Jon said softly.

"What?" Ryan asked. He maybe sounded a little bit hysterical.

"Yeah," Jon concluded. "I've been a major, major idiot."

They both moved at the same time. Ryan didn't even realize what he was doing at first, stretching his neck and tilting his mouth up to Jon's, offering, before Jon crossed the final line that pushed their lips together. Jon was as warm as Ryan had expected, but way more nervous; there wasn't any of his usual confidence behind the kiss and he kept his hands tightly in his lap. The kiss itself was only a dry press of lips. Ryan pulled back after a moment and even though it barely counted as far as first kisses went, his heart was still thumping wildly and Jon stayed close by. Ryan didn't even bother looking away because he could see the tiny freckles dotting Jon's nose from this distance. He'd never noticed those before.

"So," Jon said, his breath puffing out against Ryan's face, "I usually don't make out like a grandma."

"Do you make out with a lot of grandmothers for comparison's sake?" Ryan asked. Jon laughed and some of the tension seeped out of his body. Ryan couldn't help smiling; it wasn't that it was hard to make Jon laugh, but he felt like he'd accomplished something every time. "Tell me more about your secret life, Jon."

Jon's laughter settled into a fond half-smile, and he reached over to grab Ryan's hand. His hand was a little damp, like his palms had been sweating for awhile, like he'd been so nervous that he couldn't help it. Jon leaned in and whispered, "I'll tell you a secret" against Ryan's ear.

Ryan swallowed hard and squeezed Jon's fingers. "Okay."

"I've liked you for a stupidly long time now, but I didn't want to ruin the roommate situation." Ryan really liked how Jon's mouth felt brushing against his ear. "Plus," Jon continued, "I thought you liked someone else."

"I don't like Pete like that," Ryan said quickly, glad to have that out of his mouth and out of the way finally.

Jon nodded, pulling back to look at Ryan again. "Yeah, Spencer might have mentioned that while he was calling me stupid and blind. I can't completely remember. There was a lot of swearing."

"That's a good sign. The more he swears, the more he likes you."

"While Spencer was yelling, Brendon laughed at me until he doubled over."

"That means Brendon likes you, too."

"I'm glad they came to see you," Jon said. "I like them, too. But I like you more." Ryan smiled again, even more widely. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a really awesome smile?"

Ryan shook his head. "It's goofy."

"I like it," Jon said firmly, and Ryan wasn't about to argue. He kissed Jon again instead.

Luckily, grandmothers didn't enter the equation at all this time. Ryan shifted around on the steps until he could tangle his free hand in Jon's hair. Jon made a rumbling noise and his mouth opened just a little, just enough for Ryan to press his advantage, and he opened up even more when Ryan gave a soft tug. Jon tasted like beer, but Ryan was more interested in the way Jon pushed back as soon as Ryan slipped his tongue inside, grabbing on tightly to the front of Ryan's jacket. There was something messy and desperate in their kiss, and even though Jon had already said so outright, that's what finally drove the point home that they'd _both_ been waiting for this for a long time.

Jon squeezed Ryan's hand tight and kept him close by when they broke apart for air; Ryan would have moved in again right away if someone wasn't clearing his throat above them.

"What?" Ryan said irritably, not bothering to look away from Jon to acknowledge Spencer.

"Hey, don't get mad at me, Romeo," Spencer said. He was laughing. "You know, unless you were okay with Brendon watching you two make out."

Ryan and Jon both looked up at that, and sure enough Brendon was standing in front of Spencer in the doorway, grinning guiltily. He gave a little wave. "I wanted to make sure you guys were okay. And you were! But then I didn't want to interrupt."

"That's when you go back inside," Ryan said.

"Maybe that's when _you_ do," Brendon replied and Ryan scowled, but Jon pressed his face against his neck so it wasn't all bad.

Spencer shivered in the doorway. "Now that you _have_ been interrupted, come back inside before you catch pneumonia. In case you forgot, there's a party going on in your apartment, and no one who actually lives there is currently at it."

"Pneumonia?" Jon scoffed, but he let Ryan help him to his feet. "What are you talking about? It's awesome out here."

"You're insane," Ryan told him and snuck a kiss right behind Jon's ear. He could see the way Jon swallowed when he did that and reminded himself to try it again later. "Hey, Spence, what are the odds that my room isn't occupied right now?"

"Not good," Spencer said, shaking his head as they climbed back up the stairs. "Not good at all."

Brendon shot them a dirty smile over his shoulder. "I like your boss."

Usually, Ryan did, too. But right now? "You can have him."

+

There were a stack of marked exams on Ryan's lap and a ton of luggage in Jon's trunk. Spring break was almost over, which meant that Spencer and Brendon were crammed into the backseat of Jon's Accord because they were going back home. It kind of sucked, but Ryan had to admit they were leaving him in much better shape than when they first arrived.

"You drive a lot faster than Ryan," Brendon said, leaning forward so Jon could hear him better.

Jon chuckled. "Ryan and I have a rule: He can borrow my car whenever he needs it, just so long as I never have to drive with him."

"I don't drive _that_ slowly," Ryan said, but everyone else in the car cracking up muffled the second half of his protest. "Shut your stupid faces," he concluded intelligently.

When Jon pulled up to the terminal, Ryan tried thinking up last minute kidnapping schemes, but Spencer must have seen the look on his face when they all climbed out of the car to get the bags and say their goodbyes.

"Summer's soon," Spencer reminded him, pulling him for a hug. "You come home for quality time with your friends, and your boyfriend can visit a place where flip-flops are acceptable all year round."

Ryan almost got stuck on the word boyfriend, but Jon was busy yelling, "Flip-flops are acceptable _everywhere_ all year round," and Brendon was yanking on Ryan's arm for his own hug.

"Can't take the boy out of Chicago, right?"

"He just really likes stupid shoes," Ryan said, grabbing on tightly to the back of Brendon's shirt.

"And you really like him," Brendon said. He pulled away and ruffled Ryan's hair. "But if you ever get sick of him, you can always send him west, young man. I'll find him a nice home."

Ryan shook his head hard. "Not gonna happen."

"Good," Brendon said with a grin and a wink. "Love you."

"Love you guys, too," Ryan said, waving as Spencer and Brendon started rolling their bags away. He kept it up until they disappeared behind the revolving doors.

Ryan sighed as he opened the car door and picked up the exams again to settle them back in his lap.

"Okay," he said to Jon, trying to sound cheerful, "time to drop these off and then we have the whole day to ourselves. Pete's expecting me; I finally got him to come in for his office hours after he spent twenty minutes telling me how comfortable my sheets are and how Patrick got laid the day after our party."

"That's a lot of information," Jon said. He reached over to rub his fingers against Ryan's. "You okay?"

"Sure." Ryan shrugged. "It's just hard being away from my friends."

"Yeah, I know, but they'll call and text in a couple of hours and it'll be awesome. Plus, I know it's not the same, but you _do_ have me."

Ryan grinned as Jon pulled out onto the road again. "Finally."


End file.
